Dantalion: Out of the Nightosphere
by the-j-is-mightier
Summary: A tentacled demon from the Nightosphere tries his luck at heroism.
1. Episode One

Dantalion reached out a tentacle to beat the small, screeching animal standing next to his head on the tile floor. With the protrusion on its head now beat in, it hiccuped, swallowed its otherworldly screaming, and tottered off on its spindly legs to wake the next unfortunate servant.

His tentacles sluiced noisily as he reluctantly stood himself up on them. A dull pain coursed through him as he smacked his head on the wall of the stall he had slept in, but it was still dwarfed by the stiffness in his muscles. He had many, many different muscles, and all of them felt knotted. Even the sulfur-fueled fires of this hell did not warm the men's bathroom in the basement dungeon. But at least it was peaceful there- Dantalion had never met a "men," and apparently none of the residents of Hunson Abadeer's castle-prison fit the bill, because no one had ever joined him in that bathroom.

He slapped his his way up the rough dungeon wall to the burning-hot kitchens at the base of the castle. Through the window, he could see that the day's insanity was just beginning to ensue. Demons of all shapes and sizes, some that he recognized and some that he didn't, were sprayed helter-skelter by the even-more-demonic forces of destruction that haunted the Nightosphere. Sighing, he washed his tentacles in a smelly, but sanitary, hot-springs that surfaced right inside the swinging kitchen door. It was the only time of the day he had a chance to do so, so he savored it. Using each tentacle to grab a different ingredient out of the fridge, he made the demon-king a quadruple-decker sandwich, placed it carefully on a plate, and arranged a large pickle alongside it. The king may be imprisoned, but he had no shortage of wealth, and certainly ate like the king he was. Dantalion's beak watered at the explosion of delectable food inside that fridge, but he didn't dare sup from it, for fear of incurring the monarch's considerable wrath.

After placing it in front of the king's bedroom door, it was time for the dirty work. He descended down the stairs again to the lowly parts of the castle-prison, which the king never visited. The rest of his day would be spent cleaning the bathrooms devoted to the servants, civilians, and prisoners. He was never given soap. He had to dip his tentacles into the toilet water, scrub the toilet clean, and then dip them again in the toilet water to rinse them off. Dantalion had been picked up for the job because it was assumed that the suckers he possessed would be an asset. He couldn't complain; at least he now had a place to sleep.

Every day, with his beak in the sooty filth, he would dream. He subsisted on the stories overheard during his recent, but now irretrievable, childhood. In the taverns of the Nightosphere, where he had unsuccessfully begged and more-successfully pick-pocketed, the old men would tell tales of distant worlds, where the sky was blue and the creatures were heroic. He wasn't sure what blue was, but the sound of the word reminded him of the hollow near the canal where he had slept. His imagination had been perennially filled with heroes, and monsters, and daring deeds.

Today he rehearsed a story that was one of his favorites, about a creature who had stolen an amulet from a Princess, and after overcoming obstacles, became well-respected in the kingdom. Something about the story felt different today. Even more than before, it reminded him of his days before he had been recruited into this role at the castle. It reminded him of the little twinge of joy he had felt as a street urchin after a successful steal- the proud knowledge that tonight, if he was vigilant, he'd be able to buy something to ingest.

A spark of an idea connected in his brain: he could do it again. He lived right in the heart of the only wealth the Nightosphere had. Who would suspect it of him?

Suddenly, his life as it was seemed unbearable. He could not clean another toilet. He could not even finish cleaning this one. He had to immediately meet his destiny.

He slapped his way back up to the castle, crept wetly up the stairs to the tallest tower, and pressed his body against the sooty wall to listen. He heard no footsteps, no conversation. By this time, Hunson Abadeer should be seated firmly in his throne room, fielding the millions of visitors he got each day.

Dantalion stuck the point of a tentacle into the lock, using his finely-tuned muscles to rearrange the pins and allow him access to the demon-king's private chambers. He had stood before this door every day of his employment, but he had never taken a peek inside.

Closing the door behind him, he quickly scanned the portrait-smattered room for anything that would hold his magic amulet, his ticket to his destiny. He spotted an armoire and creaked open the doors, revealing a jewelry cabinet. He quickly used all of his arms to rifle through the riches it contained.

He felt the shaking before he heard the footsteps. Someone giant was stomping down the outside hallway, closer and closer. There was only one creature that that could be. He quickly hung strings of jewels from each of his arms, and looked for a means of escape. A satanic scream of rage emanated from the hallway, rising in pitch as the demon-kind advanced on him.

No windows. No doors. Only a two-dimensional swirling circle, hanging in space. Feeling like a hero, he took a chance. He dived into it.


	2. Episode Two

_(swirling, white and falling falling falling- will i live? what is that color? is that what blue means? rushing rushing filling my ears can't hear can't hear rushing rushing freezing can't think can't think help oh glob help-)_

Thump.

Dantalion felt himself recover consciousness on a smooth, chilly surface. Was it his bathroom floor? His tentacles felt heavy. He could barely move them. What was wrong with him? Was he sick? Was he dying? Panic surged through his prone body. He desperately tried to remember what had happened to him, but the only thing that came to mind was the familiar view of toilet bowls...

He heard a voice- "Dude, _what_ is that smell?" Underneath his words, a current of boops and beeps flowed along. Dantalion's head was pounding in time with them.

"I dunno," answered another voice, brighter. Maybe younger. "Do we have snails again?"

"Man, I sure hope not," the first voice answered. Someone was chewing loudly. It was making Dantalion feel sick. The high-pitched beeps solidified into a song. Dantalion found that he could move his tentacles, but he was weighed down by something.

The boops stopped, hedged by a gasp of surprise. "Wot iss dat?" exclaimed a third voice. Dantalion opened his eyes. All of the light bouncing off his surroundings needled into his retinas and he quickly shut his eyes again. There were colors beating on his retinas, ones that he had never seen before. He tried again, and his eyes crossed in rebellion to the torture, but through the blur he could begin to discern what he was looking at.

He was not in the dingy purple of Hunson Abadeer's castle; he was not even in the greenish light of the sky he had always known. Surrounding him were roughly-hewn wooden walls, and somehow, the light was brighter and clearer than he had ever seen before. In front of him were three creatures: a squat yellow one with floppy horns, a taller one with white horns, and a small one shaped like a box. They were all staring at him.

"I think it's an octopus..." said the yellow one.

"Is he hurt?" asked the younger one.

"A really blinged out octopus," concluded the yellow one.

The younger one, who loomed huge over Dantalion like a tree on a cliff, knelt next to him. Dantalion scooted away, retreating into the corner.

"Aw, the little guy's shaking," the tall one said. "Are you hurt? Maybe we should take him to PB and see what's up."

Dantalion didn't know where "PB" was, but he didn't want to go there. Where _did_ he want to go? Where was he now?

The events of earlier snapped back into his head. Wherever he was, it was nowhere near Hunson Abadeer. He was safe. His head began to clear.

He shook off the jewelry weighing him down and got to his tentacles.

"I'm Finn and this is Jake," said the tall one. Finn. What kind of demon was he? He wondered again, as he had while falling through the portal, whether what he was seeing on this creature was "blue." He decided, conclusively, that it had to be. It had that childhood-bed feeling. The Finn continued, "What's your name, little guy?"

"Dantalion," he answered.

"Dandy-Lion?" muttered the yellow one, before turning back to his food cup and munching on something with a bone sticking out of it. If these strange creatures were eating other creatures, they must not be so different than what he was used to...

"Where- where is this?" Dantalion continued.

"This is my treehouse," said The Finn.

"Am I welcome here?" asked Dantalion.

"Haha sure!" said The Finn. It cackled- but in a way that was pleasant to Dantalion's ears- and picked him up around the neck. Dantalion did not agree with this sudden change in altitude, and, emitting a terrified clicking, slapped his tentacles around the arms and head of The Finn. "Whoa!" yelled The Finn. Dantalion was relieved when The Finn pulled his suckers off and tossed him back onto the floor. He collected all his limbs and curled up, confused and dissatisfied with this new world.

"This little dude smells," said the Jake. "Let's give him a bath." Dantalion recognized the word "bath"- it had something to do with the men's bathroom. Were they going to dunk him in the toilet? Was he- even worse- going to have to clean toilets again? Endlessly? Dantalion prepared his suckers for battle. "What's with all this treasure?" continued the yellow Jake.

"I don't know," he replied warily.

"Where did you come from, Dandy-Lion?" asked The Finn.

Dantalion summoned up the old men's stories that filled his imagination. "From a land far, far away," he replied. "I stole the treasure from, uh, an evil king."

"You stole it?" exclaimed The Finn. Dantalion sensed displeasure in his voice, and had no desire to be cast adrift in this unfamiliar, and very blue, world. "Well, he was _evil_,"he specified.

"Oh, okay," said The Jake, stretching his horns into large yellow antlers and hanging a piece of jewelry in each of the depressions. Dantalion made an uncomfortable noise and reached out his tentacles to snatch each of them back. "Sorry, dude," said The Jake, sounding offended.

"Well, we were just gonna go to bed," said The Finn. "You're welcome to crash on the couch if you want."

The Finn and The Jake sped away, sticking their arms straight out and making wooshing and sputtering noises, and disappearing up a ladder into another part of the treehouse.

Dantalion had no idea what a couch was, but The Finn had gestured at a piece of furniture sitting in front of the table. He poked it- it was soft. Had they saved it just for him? Had they given it up for him? He wanted to follow them wherever they had gone and tell them it was fine, he would just sleep in the bathroom, but he was in a strange place and did not want to offend, let alone get lost in his hosts' house. He settled down on it, curling his tentacles underneath him and around his stolen treasure. It was much more comfortable than his bathroom floor, a kind of soft he had only dreamed of, but he still felt uneasy.

It seemed that wherever he had landed, he was welcome here. But where was he? It seemed to him that all of the stories had ended just after the main character had overcome the obstacles and made off with the jewels. He had the jewels, but what would he do now?

First, he decided, he would hide all the jewels. He didn't like the way The Jake creature had been handling them; he didn't like the way it had made The Finn suspicious of him. He wasn't a bad guy, was he? No, he was the hero, punishing the evil king.

He pushed all his booty under the couch cushion, and settled back down on top of it. Wherever he was, he was safe, and he had to trust his hosts well enough to sleep for the night. Tomorrow, who knows what would happen.

He slept soundly, and dreamed of the men's bathroom floor. He did not see, nor feel, one ruby-coated amulet slink its own way out from under the couch cushion and make its way out the uncovered window.


End file.
